Strangled Ebb
by InChrist-Billios
Summary: First person one-shot retelling of The Little Mermaid, written for Elki.


**And here's the other story I wrote for the Phenomenon (the ficathon on ACA Forum – link available on my home page – check it out – all that good stuff --grin--). This one is for **Elki**. Isn't it funny that I got two of the Elvishes? --chuckle-- I hope you like it, my dear.**

**Disclaimer: The idea is **Elki**'s.**

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(I have the most beautiful voice in Caen.) The look on the prince's face when I pulled him from the water, the look on his unconscious face as I smoothed his honey-tresses out of his mouth, was one of rapt peace. I sang over him, a song of my people and the sea, and let my voice ring true through the open air of the beach. As he began to wake, I stopped singing and hid myself, slipping back into the sea and holding to a rock in the shallows. He raised himself slowly from the sand, looking perplexed, but humming the song. His rich tenor made the melody even more beautiful.

(I am decisive.) I knew then – right in that exact moment, as his salt-crusted hair caught the light dully and his bronze skin glowed with pink from the sun – that I was in love.

(I am skilled in magic.) For the prince, I used my magic to turn my fin into two legs, like his, and I stepped onto the pearly shore, feeling the sand for the first time. Legs—feet—toes... they are wonderful. My fin, all muscle and power and might, could not compare to the grace and radiance of smooth skin stretched over delicate muscles and bone.

(I am committed.) It took me hours on the shifting sand to learn the balance. I was covered in scratches and bruises from the unyielding beach, and the sun was beginning to set before I took my first few careful steps. For the first time that day, I didn't fall. For the first time, I was dependent on nothing. There were no stormy sea-swells to push me off course. I was not floating. I was standing, on my own two _feet_ on something solid. And I wasn't moving.

(I am innocent.) Filled with a sense of freedom and elation, I took more steps, and more, and then started to run, laughing wildly and throwing my hands wide for balance. I started to sing the song of warm water and schools of fish swarming around me, my favorite song from childhood, and I stopped looking where I was going.

(I don't pay attention.) I ran into someone. My song stopped abruptly and I instinctively grabbed the person, trying to save myself from another host of injuries to add to those already covering my body. The person grabbed me, too, rough hands abrasive on my tender skin. I gasped, out of breath from my running and singing.

"Oh! Madame!" The voice was strong and harmonious, and I knew it at once.

(I am passionate.) All the blood in my body rushed to my heart, then to my head, leaving me weak-kneed as I dared to look up into the face of the man that I loved. His sea-foam eyes were staring right into mine, and any chance of speech was lost in that moment. All I could do was stand there, my legs quivering, my heart pounding, and look at the prince of Caen like he was an angel.

"My lady," he said, looking away in embarrassment and releasing my shoulders.

(I am clever.) I nearly fell, but managed somehow to balance again. He unbuttoned his shirt and handed it to me. Wordlessly, I pulled on the strange garment, buttoning it up again with only some difficulty. It was too big; the sleeves drooped past my fingertips and the hem reached almost to my knees.

(I am small.) I felt like a child, but the prince smiled.

"What song were you singing?"

(I am awestruck.) I didn't reply. I was too busy taking in every detail of his face, his body, his eyes. I longed to touch him again, not only to reassure myself that he was actually there; my knees were trembling so I thought I could never stand straight again.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said when I didn't reply. "And strange. Normally, when one finds a naked woman on the beach, once would ask why she was there, if she was alright, and who she was. You must think me a clod."

(I am naïve.) I shook my head mutely, smiling.

"Why are you here? And who are you?" he asked, softly.

"I—I was shipwrecked," I said, finding my voice at last. "Weeks ago, on the island over there."

(I am convincing.) I pointed to the distant shore visible among the cerulean blue of the waters. I'd fabricated this story before coming ashore, and recited it now with ease.

"I swam over here, holding onto a tree-branch, hoping someone would find me."

(I am weak.) My legs gave out, then, unused to supporting my weight. He caught me under the arm and kept me from hitting the ground.

"Lean on me," he commanded, putting a steadying hand at my waist.

(I need.) I obliged, grateful to take some pressure from my now-throbbing feet. Even still, I felt that my legs weren't going to take much more.

"What a brave woman," he said, looking at me with a mixture of curiosity and admiration. "The least I can do is let you stay at the castle overnight. You must be exhausted. Can you walk?"

"I don't—think so," I said, with some embarrassment.

(I am a child.) He stooped and, with a phenomenally small amount of effort, swept me off my feet. His powerful arms encased me, and my head fell against his chest. I could hear his heart beating in my ear like the tide against the rocks. He began to walk, and the lulling motion of his steps reminded me of the sea. He was my own personal ocean.

--

(I am gracious.) At the castle, I met his family. I told them I was a princess from Dalin, on the other side of the sea, and I was welcomed as royalty should be. There was another girl who had come to them the day before, but she was mute and walked with a limp. People whispered about her, that she had captivated the prince on her arrival. I saw no glimpse of that, however – he was constantly in my presence, asking me to sing for him. The girl shadowed him like a waif, sorrowful eyes watching he and I converse and laugh together.

(I am compassionate.) I asked for the girl, Sym, to be my handmaiden. I let her brush my hair, and I smiled at her. I showed her that she could be useful, too.

(I am romantic.) The day after my arrival, he knelt to the ground and asked me to marry him. I said yes, and urged him to be married the next evening, at sunset. I had waited long enough for him. He was all compliance and made the arrangements.

(I am kind.) The whole castle was in a flurry. Sym was clever with her hands, despite her limp, and fashioned his mother's old wedding dress in a way that made the ladies exclaim. I smiled and thanked her.

(I don't believe lies.) That evening, I heard strangled weeping and voices from the ocean, but I turned over and went back to sleep.

(I am frightened.) I spent the next day in preparation for the wedding, barely able to wait for that evening. The mute girl was pale and solemn, though she carried out her duties perfectly. She kept glancing at me, and glancing at the prince. I didn't like the look in her eye, and I requested that I be given a different handmaiden.

(I am frightened.) Even with Sym somewhere else, her eyes haunted me. I couldn't wait for the evening to come. Fear crept up the back of my throat. I dropped things. I was easily startled. The ladies blamed simple anxiety, but I knew there was something about Sym that unsettled me. She wanted to kill me. She wanted the prince, too.

(I am relieved.) The ceremony and reception took place on a huge ship on the ocean. I could balance better with the rocking waves beneath my feet, but just a look into the prince's eyes set my knees to quivering anew. We danced all the night, and my legs were so sore that the prince had to carry my to our bedchamber. His heart beat the tide into my ears once more, as it would every night from that day on.

(I am lying.) I am compassionate. I am kind. I am good. I am innocent. I am naïve. I am pure. I am in love. I do no wrong.

(I am convincing.) I was not jealous. I was not cunning. I was not deceitful. I promised her three days in exchange for her voice, and she took the bargain. I made no promises. If she was smarter, she could have won.

(I am happy.) That night, Sym turned back into the ebbing sea foam, and I kept her voice for the rest of my life. I lived happily ever after.


End file.
